


Recycle

by Alahnore



Category: BlazBlue
Genre: Bloodedge Experience, Centralfiction, M/M, Mental Instability, Shorts, Spoilers, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-09
Updated: 2017-09-08
Packaged: 2018-10-29 20:28:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10861503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alahnore/pseuds/Alahnore
Summary: They say the Cauldron was a gate to hell. That sounded pretty damn good, really.





	1. Terminus

**Author's Note:**

> Set after Hazama hops into the Cauldron in CF; a random idea of what happens to him and how all that goes.

Being more self-aware lead him to being a bit more impulsive. It made him more aware of how he himself–just him, only him, like holy shit–viewed things. Felt about things. There was no attachments, no burdens or luggage from the piggybacking ghost that used to possess him. And having that all to himself was both maddening and amazing. Four-eyes was so goddamn stupid for letting him live. 

It seemed like a good idea at the time. He wasn’t there to be absolved, to be _saved_. Maybe some of his actions were from Terumi, because of Terumi, but Hazama would be triple damned if he didn’t enjoy the ride. Was entertained by the spectacle. He wasn’t someone to be saved or rescued and have his slate get wiped clean. Who the hell would be such a chickenshit to want that? Now that he was self-aware, he could actually own up to these things. He could make them his if he wanted. But to do that, he had to get away, just for a bit. Get away from these psychos and their stupid compassion and self-perceived ‘kindness.’ The only out was the Cauldron. So Hazama took the leap, cackling the entire time because this was _his_  choice. 

The ever familiar ache had stopped as soon as the Boundary swallowed him. The sensation of being whole was threatened, but stubbornly Hazama held himself together. He didn’t go through that hell, the risks, to lose it all now. He would not dissolve and cease to be when he was finally him. The Boundary pulled at him in all directions, trying to rip him apart, but Hazama grasped his pieces and held them close. He could feel small things get stripped away–things he didn’t really need. And if he did, he’d get them back later. Hazama followed his whims, admitting to himself he had no idea where he was going. Maybe he’d find the Azure. Maybe the Master Unit. Would he become another Origin? Probably not. He wouldn’t want to be. The last thing he wanted to be was a puppet again.

He had no idea how much time elapsed. Where he went, how far. The endless silence felt heavy on his body–assuming he even still had it at this point. Yet there was a screeching sort of noise, drilling through his ears and scratching the inside of his skull. His chest felt like it was on fire. It was kind of cool. It was a different sort of pain. Did Relius feel like this when he was eaten and shit out by the Black Beast?

Being shit out was what it felt like when Hazama broke through something. He had hit a wall, or something like it, and he’d be damned a fourth time if he was going to be stopped. He forced his way through, and when the entire area around him shattered, the noise rising to an unbearable pitch and his eyes clouded, Hazama hit the ground face first. It kind of hurt.

By the time he was aware again, Hazama wasn’t in the Boundary. There was no unbearable silence or screeching. When he opened his eyes next, he saw an actual ceiling, not endless voids. Under him was an actual gurney, actual walls around him. The cold, sterile steel of them made Hazama hold his breath. It was a very familiar sight. Dread momentarily crept up, and he tentatively searched himself.

Still empty. So, so empty…

Hazama jerked himself upright, one hand at his face. It was okay, and actually pretty clean. Glancing down revealed he was in the nude and his chest was whole. His hands moved over where the hole had been, the skin oddly soft. He usually had soft skin til that stab. No more was the fragile, china doll-like feel of his body. He was fleshy, almost real. Only one person could fix him so flawlessly, and it was with relief and dread he looked around.

The person next to him was not who he expected. The almost scrawny man was frozen in his seat, a water bottle lifted a bit and precariously tipped, watching Hazama. Or seemed to be. A leather mask covered his eyes, sparking familiarity in Hazama, but there was still no way. The blond hair was so neatly cut and tamed, the slender body clad in a very normal suit sans jacket. 

The water bottle was lowered, the man over his shock. “Good morning.”  he said politely. He seemed so young.

It made Hazama keep quiet. So the man went on, “I repaired you to the best of my ability. Whatever got you seemed quite nasty. Do speak–do you feel whole, adequate?”

_Whole_  was not the word Hazama would have picked. But he felt something. Just what, exactly, he was not too sure of. “Adequate, sure… But don’t let me be rude. What do you call yourself, savior?” Hazama asked in return, his usual coy politeness dripping from each word.

If the man noticed, he did not show it. He actually half-smiled–not a grin, but _smiled_ –and it made Hazama’s voice freeze in his throat. Something else flared up in him when the man answered, “Certainly not savior. You may call me Relius. Do you have a designation?”

“Don’t talk to me like that.” was the first snappy comment Hazama got out. “I have a _name_ , not a _designation_.”

“Pardon me and I apologize,” _What the hell?_  “I was unsure of how you were… how to say this… configured? No, no. How you think.”

Hazama ran his hand through his hair, wishing he had his fedora. And clothes in general. “Like anyone else.”

‘Relius’ hummed. “I see. Then, what’s your name?”

He didn’t answer immediately. This couldn’t be the same Relius. He expected to do what his Relius had done… throwing himself in the Cauldron and ending up in some future time. But what exactly was he doing, running into a Cauldron? Running from something? Someone? No, he wasn’t so cowardly… Images flitted around his mind, a name somewhere in there. But he couldn’t grasp it.

So he grasped his own. “Hazama.” An ever familiar grin came to his lips, and Hazama closed his eyes. “Well, however I ended up here… you saved me. How might I repay you, Mr. Relius?”

“Just Relius will do. And if you’re so kindly offering payment, I prefer it in the form of knowledge. I’ve never seen… _someone_ … quite like you.”

“Uh huh… I _bet_  you haven’t.” Not yet, perhaps. “Well, who am I to deny my savior? For a while, Relius, let’s be partners.”

The half-smile became a confused, thin line of tightly pressed lips. After a heartbeat of confusion, Relius questioned him, “Partners?”

Hazama opened one eye slightly, just peeking. He could feel the confusion radiating off the young man. But there was interest. There was _always_  interest. “Sure. If you can take care of me for a bit… I’ll tell you whatever I can. Mind you, I don’t remember some of it… but some time together will teach you plenty, I’m sure.”

“You’re quite forward.”

“I mean it all in good faith! You did save me, Relius… and that’s a big debt to repay. It’ll take me a while… and I do like teaching.”

There was some distrust. Hazama knew there would be, but in the end that curiosity he could always depend on being there reared it’s head. “I suppose. It’s not like I can turn you out there when obviously something tried to take you out. Very well, Mr. Hazama. Welcome to my home.”

Hazama closed his eye and gave Relius a wide, pleased smile. “Much obliged, Relius. Before we start, though, I could use some clothes…”


	2. Genesis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was a new day, a new world, a new life. No point in clinging to that he can’t return to.

He’d gone backwards. Everything was back-ass backwards and in a way Hazama was loving it. It was a new day, a new life, a new world… there was no preconception of a ‘Terumi’ going to possess him and string him along like a puppet. No grand scheme he barely had a part of. Even his own ‘creator’ was now a much younger, more impressionable version that he was more equal with than he ever was. Not to mention he was just so polite and cute.

It was probably the harder part of starting over. The whole new Relius. No Colonel, no NOL, no pretentious asshole persona he had to worm his way through. This Relius was a lot more… open. Simpler. It was almost impossible to believe he was going to grow up and create Hazama. But if Hazama was already here, he had to wonder how that was going to work out.

It hurt his head to bother thinking about it. A lot of things hurt his head nowadays, really. Anytime he tried to think of the old place, his head hurt. Something was missing and it bothered him, to an extent. Something besides Terumi. He wondered if Terumi made it, but most likely he didn’t. The way he was flaunting, Hazama hazard whoever nearly took him out probably took out Terumi.

Hazama refused to be treated like a thing, no matter how polite and nice about it his new little Relius was. He didn’t let Relius do maintenance or checkups. He did like anyone else with migraines—he either took medicine, even if it did nothing, or did a little drinking just to distract himself from the pain. Eventually it went away and Hazama went his merry way, temporarily forgetting that other stupid place and its stupid rules and even stupider conflict.

The worst he had to worry over was Relius’ _actual_ partner Valkenhayn. There was no hiding him from the werewolf. Or the fact he wasn’t human, but neither was the dog, so what did that matter? The younger Valkenhayn was every inch the hot blooded brute Relius used to say he was, and Hazama loved those types. So easy to manipulate. He couldn’t resist getting under Valkenhyan’s skin, an old habit probably, born from old repetition more than petty jealousy when he saw the way Valkenhayn would pat his little Relius’ head. Relius wouldn’t tolerate more than a quick touch, but the obvious camaraderie was there. Hazama’s first attempts to do the same ended with Relius ducking a bit quicker to actually avoid him, which was reasonable really. It stung a bit.

Hazama wasn’t exactly sure _why_ it stung. It was a new sort of feeling. All sorts of a new things in this place it seemed.

Finding _his_ place in it was a new struggle. This was a world that didn’t have him before and now that he was here, it was obvious he wasn’t exactly welcome. His usual strength seemed to be cut; getting into fights was very much ill advised. He hadn’t attempted Ouroboros, and something told him not to bother. It probably wouldn’t end well. Getting himself back to con-man level was going to take work.

But that was alright. In the end he still had a place to crash, eggs to enjoy and a partner to pick at to help the migraines, the strange idle thoughts and the odd _alone_ feeling that was so heavy it made him nauseous. And he never had been sick before so _that_ was a new thing too.

But he wasn’t going back to whatever it was. Hell no. He left it for a reason. He’d find a reason to stay here, or he’s damn well _make_ one.


	3. Exordium

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That Hazama wasn’t human was only the tip of the iceberg. If they were going to be partners, Relius was going to know more about him. Everything, maybe.

Hazama appeared to be asleep on the couch, hat over his face, arms crossed and still. Relius had only meant to inquire if he wanted coffee, but found himself lingering in the doorway, watching him. He looked normal enough: a slender, tall man, his chest rising and falling with the tempo of one at ease, at rest. Normal. Typical.

Human.

But that was hardly the case. Relius had taken Hazama’s request to heart before, but unknowns were such a tease. More than anything Relius wanted to take apart the unknown, dissect it down to its roots and figure out all of it’s inner workings. How it ticked. Where did it come from. Why it was how it was.

His steps light, Relius made his way to Hazama’s side. Behind the blindfold his brow was furrowed, trying to dissect Hazama with his eyes. He should have studied him when he had the chance. But now there was no _dissecting_. Hazama had become less of an object and more of an actual being since he woke up. He certainly didn’t act like the typical artificial human. For all intents and purposes he seemed so whole. So perfectly in sync with what was considered the norm and _human_. Whoever made him was incredible.

Hazama was incredible. A masterwork in a sense. A true, living doll that had somehow transcended even that. If the blue-green light Relius saw was any indication, there was little that could deny Hazama was actually alive.

Relius raised his hand, carefully undoing the clasp of his blindfold. He let it fall to the other side, looking at Hazama with his actual eyes, to see what the surface actually appeared to be like. Immaculately human.

Yet for all the technical aspects there was even more unknown about Hazama. _What_  was not up for debate. _Who_  was the question. _Who_  was Hazama? _Who_  made him? _Who_  led to _why_ , and every question inbetween. It drove Relius mad some days, knowing he couldn’t dig in to find out.

But it only meant he had to do it the old fashioned human way. After all, they were partners now. Partners knew each other, through words and time. A shame he had to do so with such a slow, unreliable system of communication. But he could not deny the burning want to _know_ , to _learn_ , all he could about Hazama.

Relius placed his blindfold back on and carefully made his way back to the kitchen as quietly as he came, unaware of the way Hazama was smirking under his hat.


	4. Abscindo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time doesn’t mend all wounds. Even if he had forgotten the origin of them, the scars throb.

There were times he was left alone. Plenty of times, really. Relius and Valkenhayn had their little stint as Immortal Breakers or whatever. Or Relius had research and Hazama wasn’t going to hang around a lab if he didn’t have to. The idea of it made his skin crawl for a variety of reasons.

In those times Hazama found ways to amuse himself. Normal things. He picked up habits, acted on old ones. He’d go find some new silver trinket or some new bath soap to indulge in. Maybe try different teas or coffees.

But there was also his new _experimenting_.

It was a dirty secret, one that he had to be very careful to hide, especially from the ever righteous dog. But if there was one thing Hazama picked up from Relius, it was to keep his experimentation area _sterile_.

No matter how much blood splattered around. There was plenty of bleach and all sorts of flammable materials.

Yet despite the numbers, Hazama wasn’t pleased. After that brief time he had with that ever interesting immortal–although what was it? He couldn’t remember–humans were just too… squishy. A woman could scream just once and the guy she was with goes insane and Hazama had to slit his throat too soon. And weak, human women break pretty soon after that. They only died once, too. The pain they experienced never lasted long enough to be properly observed. No wonder Relius was frustrated.

But one thing always persisted. A sick and twisted hole in him, filled only in those moments. The familiarity plugged up the void… that habit of torturing, of seeing people die left and right and not giving much of a damn. Of hatred of humans, an infection from another being he was with at some point in his life that was festering and spreading. He was practically septic with the remnants, his body absorbing it and twisting it into something _he_  could claim. Watching people break as he took away things from them, showed them the remains of their cherished ones, had a momentary effect where he felt whole again. It was addictive.

It truly was “fun” to take away the things people cherished. It showed him so much pain, something he could in those fleeting moments try to know and understand.

Yet they were short. And immortals were not really that easy to find here. After dozens, hundreds, whatever many such experiments, Hazama found his data had plateaued. There was only so many ways to torture flimsy humans that couldn’t stand much pain. He needed something stronger. Something amazing, something _new_.

It hit him one day. One day when once more he was on the sidelines, watching the way Relius and Valkenhayn interacted. The way Valkenhayn would sneak pats to Relius’ head. Something Hazama could do now, but never so well as the werewolf. Werewolves were immortal. He thought of how to really hurt Valkenhayn, formulating the perfect plan. He was on the verge of executing it when an even greater revelation, the perfect hypothesis, really hit.

He had been observing others’ pain, but it was always a temporary high, fleeting data. Something had been missing, and he realized he was still empty in a way. A deep emptiness, something so important had been cut away. No, not away. He was cut. Deep down somewhere he had been cut… stabbed, sliced… and it should hurt. He should be hurting but he _wasn’t_.

It wasn’t physical pain he sought. If that was the case the headaches would suffice. No, it was deeper… deeper! Worse! Something worse than physical pain… something that would validate and verify he was him, that he was a “self”! That “he” was truly “him”!

Hazama would have to take away something _he_  cherished. But what? Items were no good. What did he _cherish_? What did he find comfort and joy, however minute, in?

He was sleeping on it when he heard it. Footsteps, close, then stop near him. Eyes bearing down on him as he pretended to sleep under his hat. That ever studious gaze, even through material, could be felt. It was something he always had. It was familiar. That curiosity always festering and he ever so enjoyed seeing it in action. It was… nice. It was something he liked.

And that was it. Footsteps carried his precious thing away, and Hazama grinned under his hat, fighting the urge to cackle, wide gold eyes staring into the darkness he covered his own face in. That was _it_.


	5. Emortuus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He made his move and he fell into it. It was lovely.

Relius had enjoyed Hazama’s presence. Sure there were a few times he was insufferable and the secrets were annoying, but Relius could count him as an ally. Perhaps a comrade. A little better than Valkenhayn. At least he wasn’t constantly having to babysit him like the werewolf.

Sometimes Hazama did venture with him to a lab, and those few rare times Relius found himself learning more. It worsened his curiosity for all things, but most of all, about Hazama. Before he knew it he found himself always seeking the other, wanting to learn more. There was a key thing here, he felt… something that could help his own personal research immensely, if the other would be so kind to indulge.

Perhaps that’s what lead to this. The odd attachment, the never-ending, never satiated curiosity leading him from actual logic to tunnel-visioned desire. A desire to know more, seek more, simply more.

He realized his mistake nearly too late, right as Hazama’s hand caught his throat.

There was a moment of panic–his eyes bulging wide behind his blindfold and his lips caught in the surprised, pathetic little ‘o’ as oxygen was suddenly cut off mid-breath. The moment seemed to freeze, all time stopped, as Hazama’s mad grin filled his vision.

The survival instinct kicked in, activating the proper synapse and channels in Relius’ mind to revive the ingrained battle techniques he knew. Gears ground in his ears as a slim, silver marionette hand materialized from beneath his cape and grabbed Hazama by his face. There was a most indignant sound from Hazama just before he was tossed aside, his body flying into a nearby experiment table. Glasses shattered and scattered, liquids flying and leaving smatterings of their contents to spread and ooze. Some soaked into Hazama’s suit, and when he stood, a few damp areas were smoking as the acid ate through the cloth.

Hazama pressed his hand to the side of his cheek, a bit slumped over. His eyes opened to narrow slits, the golden of them nearly glowing. Despite the grin, Relius was momentarily mesmerized.

Hazama didn’t attack immediately again. Not yet. He watched Relius, taking in the way the young man kept his neutral stance, not quite defensive but not aggressive either. No real pain on his face. This was going to be a long experiment. Casually Hazama picked up his hat, setting it on his head.

There were no words. Usually there were, but Hazama knew he had to break down Relius a bit more before he could start using them. He kept low to the ground as he ran back toward Relius, his wrists flicking and his hands soon spinning butterfly knives. He used the momentum of their spin to apply enough force as he attempted to slash upwards, wanting a nice deep cut from Relius’ hip to his shoulder.

But Relius, younger or not, was no rookie to combat. Hazama knew that, even if he let Valkenhyne do the heavy work, Relius could hold his own even now. Steel screeched against magical metal as a larger puppet hand appeared, and Hazama straightened himself, knives suddenly gone. He kept a solid hold on his hat as he instinctively activated his defensive Ars, the temporary shield surprising both of them when it appeared. The punch from Relius’ marionette arm still forced Hazama to skid back an inch, but he was completely unharmed otherwise.

“What are you?” Relius hissed, his teeth clenched.

Anger was not what Hazama wanted. He had seen that plenty before–it was old and spoiled. Even in Relius. He wanted, _needed,_ something else. Something else from _Relius_. It had to be him.

It had to _hurt_.

“I’m just _Hazama_ ,” was the mocking response. “Least what I’ve been called… no. It’s what I chose. It’s my name. _Mine_.” No, that was never going away. That wasn’t something to be taken away. Not like he could do that to himself.

Relius’ lips twitched at the corners. “I see… you are… malfunctioning.”

It took a lot of willpower not to get incredibly pissed.

“I told you not to talk to me like that.” Hazama replied, his voice low and dangerous. Yet it lacked the aggression Relius was expecting, especially for the comment he uttered.

But perhaps that was exactly it. Besides the unusual aggression, Hazama was rather… blank. He showed better emotion before. But could a creation be blamed for going rogue?

No. It fell on the creator. Relius braced himself, shifting to a move battle ready stance. He wasn’t sure who Hazama’s creator was, but if nothing else, he sort of knew Hazama. That he could fix.

Hopefully.

Hazama came at him again, knives becoming almost tiny silver tornadoes in his hands. The speed that Hazama moved once up close kept Relius on the defensive, marionette hands almost endlessly appearing to parry or block the knife edges. He retaliated where he could, keeping the puppet hands open to spread the impact and hopefully do less damage but keep Hazama back.

Yet it seemed the other man was immune to pain. No matter how many times he was swatted back, his defense not quite as solid, he got back up. Once Relius finally aimed a punch across his face, using a slighter larger puppet hand to do it, yet Hazama laughed the would-be damage off. In fact Hazama was soon laughing hysterically between swipes and kicks. It was slightly unnerving, but Relius kept to his guard the best he could.

Hazama however had a trump card that Relius had no idea about. Relius could stand like a wall and block him til Hazama either exhausted himself or became wide open enough to be pinned, but Hazama knew that. Getting by the defensive Relius was difficult, and this one did not have the split-second weakness of calling, dismissing and commanding a fully-fledged battle doll. But his back was always exposed, and all Hazama needed was a moment. A moment of Relius’ attention, full and all focus.

It wasn’t hard to get, not like this, not like usual. Hazama could admit for a moment in basking in the attention. Somehow it felt like he used to always fight for this. This central attention. This focus. There had been times, before he came here, he wanted Relius’ eyes on _him_. Not that other _thing_ , not whatever soul or power he had. And now he had it.

Now he was going to get rid of it. The ache was lovely.

Relius raised an arm, one puppet limb flying out to knock into Hazama again. The limb stopped short as Relius froze, a disbelieving noise escaping him. Rings formed around his raised arm, chest, waist, other arm and both legs. One formed around his neck as well, and he found himself completely immobilized. Immediately magic flared, but Hazama accounted for that, and when the rings constricted and Relius gave a grunt of pain the magic dissipated.

Hazama cackled as he stepped around the now defunct puppet limb and close to Relius, eyes wide and dancing in mirth and wonder. “I got you.” Hazama whispered once close. “I actually did it. Amazing. I knew it’d be easier now than before but honestly…”

“You…” Relius hissed. He attempted to lower his arm, to lash back, but the rings constricted again and this time he yelped.

“Careful, careful.” Hazama practically cooed at him. “You’re no immortal so I’m not being _too_  cruel, but I know you’re a very capable young man. Don’t move so much… you’ll end the fun so early.”

Relius’ hands balled into fists, the movement not going without punishment. “What… is wrong with you?” he managed out.

Hazama adjusted his hat. “Who knows? I don’t know, you don’t know, _you_  don’t know–” was there some difference in that? “–no one does! Probably, though. I’m just taking a page out of your book. An experiment.”

“Ex…?”

“Shhh. Save your breath.” Hazama reached over, pressing a finger over Relius’ lips. How boyishly soft. “We both will need it.”

He had meant to let his hand drop, but Hazama’s fingertips were soon moving over Relius’ cheek, his chin and along his jaw. Even so young he was so sharp. He could just barely feel the phantom stubble along Relius’ jaw, the aged lines. For a flickering moment the old memory imposed on the new attraction, and Hazama felt his chest tighten. It was an annoying sensation but along the lines he wanted. 

“Lovely, so lovely,” Hazama crooned, his fingers reaching through Relius’ hair. “You’re so important, you know that? No one else would have taken me in. You’re like an actual friend, Relius.”

“So… what… are you doing…?”

“An experiment! Listen to me, for _once_ , Relius.” Hazama chastised. “I want to know… I _long_  to _know_ … you took the first one away, but that’s fine. I barely remember why I had it. But this one…! This one, I know I’ll feel it. Surely.”

The man was rambling and Relius was unsure of what he was getting at. Why did he let Valkenhyne go on a mission alone? He could use the damn dog right now. “What one…?”

“ _Pain_!” Hazama exclaimed. “My _pain_ , my only time feeling so close to _human_! But physical pain is nothing to this… just the thought of hurting you hurts _me_. Why? How? I have to know… does increasing your pain increase mine? Why? What is this? I want to know.”

Relius meant to answer, to snap something, but Hazama wouldn’t know what it was. The rings constrict again, and Relius found himself choking.

“I want to feel, to know _true despair_.”


	6. Levis est fortuna

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fortune is fickle: it quickly takes back what it gives.

It felt like it wasn’t long, but also like it were forever, when Hazama took stock of the current situation. His hand clutched at his chest, the other at his forehead as he tried to keep himself under control. The small body crumpled on the ground, soaked in blood, was almost too still. Hazama felt his chest tighten even worse, his breath leaving him as surely as if he were punched. The same reaction, more intense as the moment went on, every time he added another cut or the bindings got closer. It wasn’t going to be much longer before they ripped his lovely Relius to pieces.

Just the mention of Relius dying, of being gone forever, was maddening. Hazama felt like something was twisting in his chest, his head tearing itself apart. Relius had not hit him or even said anything beyond the moans and yelps of pain, but Hazama felt out of breath. His being felt almost overloaded with a sort of pain he never quite felt before. Is this what it felt like, watching something precious slip away? What an alluring and precarious sensation–elated and thrilled, yet so torn and feeling far more broken than ever!

“Is this real pain?” Hazama whispered, eyes widening as understanding seemed to dawn on him. “This… is this where all that hatred before… did it stem from this sort of pain? Ah…” Hazama took a step back, his hand sliding from his forehead to cover one eye, the other fixated on Relius’ still body. “Ahh… it hurts… it really hurts…”

_He_  did this. _He_  made this choice, consciously, to inflict this on his precious little Relius. To make him bleed, to make him wince and moan and cry out. Who could do this to someone they deemed important, precious? A monster. But monsters couldn’t _feel_. And this… Hazama could feel this.

Was this actual despair?

Another unsettling feeling came over him when he realized Relius really was very still. Was this fear? Surely Relius wasn’t dead yet. That would be so crushing. He could feel it. All of it starting to cave in, compress down.

“It really hurts…!” Hazama’s voice filled the air, almost echoing off the walls, bloodied by his earlier enthusiastic stabbings and slicing. “Relius… Relius, it hurts… It’s amazing! I see… I can almost see it… why… why they… ah…” Both of Hazama’s hands frame his face, both eyes now on that still little body. “Ah ha… ahahaha…! Relius! Yes! I think I understand! Relius!!”

Yet there was no answer.

Hazama froze. Surely not. He took a few steps closer, his hands slowly falling from his face, leaving a smear of now-cold blood on his cheek. “Relius.” he called, almost demanding despite the soft tone.

No answer.

Hazama stepped closer, that odd feeling twisting up his insides. His chest felt on the verge of exploding and what little functionality left in his mind starting to shut down.

“Relius Clover.”

Silence.

His mind went first. He didn’t feel the last surge of agony, of that ever elusive _true despair_ , and his body started to go on auto pilot. Hazama screamed, his hands going to his head. It wasn’t time yet! There was still so much to see, to hear, to know!

_Relius can’t even **die**!_

And yet…

“No! No, you bastard!!” Hazama yelled, irrational anger rising. He dropped his hands and began to stalk toward the body. He had it planned out. All of it had been perfectly thought out!

“ _Led ley_.”

Hazama gawked as Relius suddenly came back to life, rolling toward him. The rings squeezed in, but the man’s body flickered with a magical glow and they passed right through him, disappearing once they’ve reached their max constriction. An odd sort of elation filled Hazama then, and Relius’ name escaped him in a relieved, happy little cry.

The cry became surprised all over again when marionette arms materialized, grabbing Hazama by his wrists. His back and head slammed into the ground, more arms appearing to pin down every limb and one grabbed Hazama by the throat. Somehow Relius managed to stand over him, slumped over and weak, but standing nonetheless. Hazama had no words for the feelings ripping through him to see Relius alive. Some of his mind seemed to turn back on, but the hand at his throat prevented his speaking.

Relius breathed raggedly, his good arm gripping the mangled mess Hazama made of the other. Bone could still be seen where he’d broken it, Relius’ hand covering over where Hazama had skinned him. 

“Whoever created you…” Relius breathed out. “Was a sick… sick idiot…”

Hazama tried to laugh at that, because the _irony_! Yet the hand tightened, and Hazama just grinned. He didn’t need _air_ , the silly boy.

Relius seemed to remember that. The hand moved from Hazama’s throat to once more grab him by the face, lifting his head up a bit.

“Excuse my brutality… I will make it up to you.” Relius murmured just before the marionette limb slammed Hazama’s head into the ground, cracking the floor.

It took another crack for Hazama to lose consciousness, falling back into that blank void he hated so damn much.


	7. Excarcio

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kindle not a fire you can not extinguish.

Oddly, the first thing he computed was the sensation of cotton. Cool, smooth, soft cotton grazing down from his temple, over his cheek and along his jawline. The surface area of the touch was small; a fingertip, gliding over his skin and seeming to alight his nerves and senses as it grazed. Eventually he mustered the energy to open his eyes, at least a little bit, squinting against the brightness of the laboratory lights that cut into the retinas and briefly felt like it was searing.

A shadow leaned in, gaining detail rapidly. It blocked enough light so his eyes opened more, and the first detail he noted was the tentative frown. Familiar. He always saw that look.

Hazama sat up, Relius moving aside as he did so. Not a word, not yet. Of course not. Relius did not speak first when he was studying, and Hazama could tell he was being studied regardless of the blindfold. He spent enough time with the small man to get that.

“What, did I pass out?” Hazama asked, rubbing his eyes. When he lowered his hands and looked to his partner, he finally got the actual image of him. The usually clean uniform, impeccable cape and proud stature faded away to the reality of torn cloth, ripped cape and blood-smeared skin peeking between the shreds and slumped, tired stance. Relius’ cape was oddly shifted, more heavily piled and pinned to hang over his left side. The stench of old blood had drenched the lab, and Hazama looked to where he saw pile of wreckage and black splotches, some flaking, some still wet looking.

Before he could panic and demand an answer, Relius spoke, the soft raspy quality of his voice doing little to still the thudding in Hazama’s chest. “Ignore that. How do you feel?”

“Ignore that?! Are you insane? What happened to you?” Hazama demanded. He reached toward Relius, who flinched away from him, half turning so his right shoulder faced him. “Relius!”

“Do you feel better? You… were quite hurt.” Relius went on in the same voice, same tone.

Knowing he had to go along with it and hating the sinking feeling dropping to his stomach, Hazama nodded. “Yes, yes. I’m fine. Not a scratch. Not a mark.” _Mark. There should be a mark, but you fixed that long ago…_ “What happened?”

“We had some trouble. Unfortunately you were hit in the head… and were extensively harmed.” Relius explained. Hazama felt his frustration only swell higher at the fixation on him and not the actual answer he wanted. “I had to… repair you. I did my best, but I am sure you lost some memories.”

Hazama loathed that word, but if Relius was using it, that meant it was bad. “You rushed us here for me and did nothing for yourself then.” He guessed.

“Well I had to do something or I’d be very much dead.” Relius replied dryly. “It was enough.”

“But we’re outside the window of getting you to the hospital.” Hazama’s gaze drifted from Relius’ ruined frame to the workstation nearby, plates of metal and tools scattered over it. It was all precisely measured and formed already. The man always could work fast.

“Worry not about me.” There was a moment of hesitation, one uncharacteristic and it drew Hazama’s gaze back to him. “Do you remember the battle at all?”

“No.”

The brusque answer made Relius wary. He did not have the knowledge of Hazama’s make to properly ‘tamper’ with him and not risk great consequence. He had done his best not only to reverse Hazama’s wounds, but to correct him mentally and stabilize his emotions and desires. The checks and balances of his system had been thrown off course, his apparently incorrectly developed “sense of self” having overridden a multitude of what Relius thought were safety measures. But even artificial beings like Hazama had complex minds, and like a normal human brain, he couldn’t hope to poke it too roughly without issues arising. Relius did what he could to repair and erase what occurred. Hazama need not know of it; he was at the mercy of his creator’s skill after all. There was no need to put undue pressure on him over a malfunction.

Hazama knew he lost Relius’ attention when he went so quiet, looking so deep and lost in thought. That was Relius. As Hazama always knew him, his mind would go off on tangents and sometimes Hazama had to wait him out.

Gold eyes once more fixated on the smears of blood, looking back toward the work bench and the mechanical arm there. He knew it wasn’t just one of Relius’ doll arms being repaired. He knew too well the shape and build. Often he’d latch onto Relius’ arm to ruffle his feathers, to enjoy his warmth and adore the way he was so _human_ and _open_ here. Would this new arm still be so firm in Hazama’s grasp; would it feel as nice when he’d lay his head against it just to fluster the other?

Did losing the limb hurt more than _how_ he lost it, Hazama wondered idly.


	8. Dissimulo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His eyes were closed; the other’s, covered. The shift was done and he could feel the resentment build. He could feel the pain he festered himself, and a tiny part of him finally understood regret.

Hazama felt a little more whole, since that day. A little more ‘there,’ at least. Perhaps his dear little Relius wasn’t up to par to his other self, but he was getting there. Hazama still functioned, still was largely himself, but he had a new clarity. A new ability to focus and not suffer such pain in his head. Maybe it was because as days passed he thought less on the ‘was’ he came from and focused more on the ‘here’ that was now. Probably because ‘now’ constantly hurt, compared to the ‘was’ that did no longer.

It wasn’t a physical hurt, not like before. The throbbing, the ache, was a distant memory he was on the cusp of forgetting. This new pain reached deeper, and at times it’d clutch his entire chest and twist, leaving him temporarily breathless. It was a pressure that never really let up, only worsened at key moments. His fingertips would brush magenta and the recipient still, weeks later, would jerk away, not even look in his direction, and Hazama felt that crushing sensation. He didn’t have to kill Relius to lose him.

Hazama played it off. Valkenhayn, after he had his fit, still didn’t know what really happened. Hazama never understood why Relius kept it a secret, or even bothered to keep Hazama around. He pretended he had forgotten the scene, as it seemed that was Relius’ intention, but why he was allowed to remain was something Hazama couldn’t grasp. The way Relius would pull away, would be more tense and have his guard up, would all be signs that he should have let Hazama loose. Perhaps it was the savagery Hazama attacked him with that made Relius keep him under supervision, so to speak. But why suffer him to live? Between the two, Hazama was sure he’d be slain by Relius and Valkenhayn. But the werewolf was kept in the dark and on the surface, Relius and Hazama kept polite.

But it wasn’t the same. The comfort Hazama had when he was allowed closer, when he worked with Relius, was gone. The very thing that made him focus on Relius and claim him as ‘his precious thing’ was gone, just as he planned. It had hurt then, and it continued to saw into him every time Relius brushed by him. Sometimes ignored him. Hazama thought he’d be used to that, but this was  _his_  Relius. His small, precious, polite and morally gray at worse Relius. The one who’d smile at him, who’d gladly work with him, who’d share a quiet moment of tea in the morning... Everything Hazama had gotten stupidly attached to, he broke.

His experiment was a success then, but Hazama now had no idea what to do with the result. He didn’t realize he’d have to live with it. Every time he tried to turn and walk out the door, when he  _did_  make it outside and away, Hazama gravitated back. He had made a cardinal mistake: he became too invested. In the experiment, the result, the victim. Especially the victim. Especially himself.

Hazama was left with pieces he had no idea what to do with. Surely not put them back together? But in a way he felt the push to do it, a sort of desperation to find some sort of glue and put it all together again, cracks and all. But he was supposed to be clueless, and Relius supposedly suffered the truth alone. At times, Hazama saw him cradle his new synthetic arm, and as soon as Relius realized he was looking he’d stop and pretend no one existed. There had been times Hazama peeked into the laboratory and Relius was doing maintenance, the false skin peeled off like a layer of plastic, followed by the fake fibers meant to appear like natural muscle. Hazama found himself entranced at times, watching as Relius pulled himself apart, did a few fixes and changes, and put himself back together.

Hazama sometimes wished he could do that with himself. With the two of them. The experiment was a success, but he was starting to think perhaps, in a larger way, he utterly failed.

And it hurt.


End file.
